A Kick in the Balls
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Liam had organized a game of soccer to be played on Eos. But that wasn't the only ball that was being kicked.


**A Kick in the Balls**

Soccer is pretty much the galactic game of the Milky Way.

Or, technically it _was _the game of the Milky Way, and not always called soccer. Even on Earth, people were still split into camps as to whether it should be called soccer or football. And of course, every non-human species has their own version of soccer as well, as well as its own name. Oh sure, the rules might differ, but most Milky Way species are humanoid, and apparently it's a given that at some point along a species' development, they'll develop a game as simple as having something to kick, a place to kick it into, and two opposing sides. The asari version allows for the use of biotics. The turian version allows for physical contact. The krogan version is too dangerous for an unarmoured human to play, and the hanar...well, he isn't sure. From what he's heard, they're happy to let the drell do their thing when it comes to kicking round objects into other objects. Or at times, throwing them and causing an explosion.

He assumes that it could still be the sport of choice for the Milky Way. For some reason, the Nexus has had trouble making contact with its point of origin, but even then, it wasn't as if something would happen that erased such a universal game from the face of the galaxy. Heck, come to think of it, it might be a universal game, literally, considering it's spread from one galaxy to the next. He doesn't know if the angara ever had their own version of the game, but whatever the case, they've taken to it like fish to water. Even on a planet with very little water, and as far as he can tell, no fish to speak of.

He's face to face with an angaran right now. She's taller than him, but he has the advantage of experiences, plus a foot that's better suited to operating on sand. He goes to one side, then dodges to the other, leaving his opponent in the dust (or sand, technically). A salarian is next, but this poor sod is even less well adapted to a dry environment than the angaran, and he keeps the ball in step. The turian goalkeeper, proving why turians are the masters of strategy, decides that attack is the best form of defence, and dashes forward. But while the sight of a charging turian is intimidating even at the best of times, Liam is still able to shoot the ball over him, and straight between the two goalposts.

"Goal!" someone yells.

He wipes the sweat off his forehead. The soccer game outside Prodromos has gathered a small crowd. Nothing like the world cup on Earth, beamed out to every corner of human-controlled space and beyond, but hey, give it a few centuries and they might be giving FIFA a run for its money. Watching the goalkeeper pound the sand in frustration, hearing the cheers and catcalls from the crowd, he knows he should be happy. Everything that's happening here today is a manifestation of what he's worked towards. Proof that humanity can't only just gain a foothold in a new galaxy, but thrive. Make allies from the locals. Develop the foundations of a new society, and still have time to play a game of shooting a round thing between two pointy things. By most accounts, today has gone on without a hitch.

In truth, he's never felt so miserable.

He's been able to hide it so far. That, or people have noticed and not commented on it. Both are equally valid explanations to the lack of "hey, you feeling okay?" or "bloody hell Kosta, it looks like someone shot your dog." Not that he's ever owned a dog, or a cat, or any pet at all, but he's at the point where he can't wait for the game to end. Sooner it ends, sooner he's off the field, sooner he can just lie on his couch on the _Tempest _and drink himself to oblivion. That, and the sooner he can be away from her. Sara Ryder. Human Pathfinder, and right now, a member of the opposing team. Also wearing her jumpsuit that like her hair and skin, is drenched with sweat, which causes Liam Kosta to briefly think of the _Tempest_'s shower. How there's room for two, plus soap, plus shampoo that's made from some weird plant on Sur'Kesh that when combined with the oils of the human skin, makes a really sweet scent that-

The whistle blows and the ball is already past him.

"Your head in the game Kosta?" someone yells.

He grits his teeth. He just wants it to end. Being caught unawares like that has removed all the good will he generated by scoring the last goal. He's got enough self-dignity left to not just head off the field - this started as a friendly match between the people who now call Eos home, but after an hour of play, things are heating up, and not just because the sun's reaching its apex. Sweat pours down his head as he runs across the field, and continues to pour as he stops. One player has passed to Sara, and all he can do is stare. It's as if they're on ice, and she's some kind of ballerina ice-skater. She has the grace, she has the beauty, she can certainly evade not one, but two members of his team before shooting a goal. Kicking the ball, and this time, not his.

_Eww._

More cheers, high fives, and in the case of turians, the whole forearm embrace thing. He barely notices. He's still looking at her. Watching her. Wishing he was on her team, yet simultaneously grateful that he isn't. Wishing that she'd look his way, but when she does give him a glance, also look aside, pretending that his head is completely in the game, and that his heart isn't being wrenched in two.

He hates himself right now. He hates how 90% of today has gone according to plan, but the 10%, that same percentage that gave him the idea for this game in the first place, hasn't. He hates himself for letting it get to this - yeah, they nearly died together on Habitat 7, and have fought alongside each other on more than a handful of worlds since then, but that's par for the course in this line of work. It's as if he's a singularity - the black hole of his existence, and his guiding star is forever within his sight, but forever blind to him. Months have passed since the _Tempest _departed the Nexus for the first time, and since then, they've become close. Or so he told himself. Kett. Remnant. Roekaar. Also no shortage of people who've shown interest in Sara Ryder (a certain asari and angaran come to mind), but who've kept their place for whatever reason. Not to mention Vidal Reyes - the one person that he saw Sara Ryder fall for, before spurning him upon the realization that he was a sack of shit. Granted, those weren't the words she used, nor he, but he's been in the presence of this merry band to tell when someone is hurt, even they won't admit it. Seeing her back on the _Tempest_, seeing her watch the arrival of Initiative shuttles into the Govorkam system, given clearance by the representative of a man she refused to talk to...that was one of them.

So it's come to this, he reflects as someone yells out "next goal wins," to much applause. Liam Kosta. Last man standing. The nice guy. The nice guy whose first date (or so he told himself) was a pirate ship raid gone awry with airlocks opening, gravity going haywire, and everything going so wrong, and so right. Not unlike today, with this soccer game, but with things going wrong beforehand. Because before they joined in, he told her. Got it all out. Not as directly as he could, but direct enough that no-one could miss it. Direct enough to be told that the professional, friendly relationship between them was working out fine for Sara Ryder, and she has no desire to change that.

He told her he respected her position. It was a statement that wasn't a lie. Not really. He hates that he hates himself for it. He hates that some of that hate is directed towards her, when none of that's due to any fault of her own. He hates how, when he has the ball, he kicks it into the face of an opposing salarian and feels no guilt whatsoever as the weapon comes back to him and he runs pass the aggravated amphibian. Self-pity is an ugly emotion. It becomes even uglier when it's channeled this way. But he doesn't have a gun, and no kett to use it on. He just has a ball. An opposing side. And short of the goalkeeper, only Sara Ryder standing before him. One goal before another, and only one ball to shoot with.

Is that irony? He doesn't know. Right now, his head's so messed up he can't think straight. What she's thinking he can't tell, but in all likelihood, it's the game, the golden worlds, and the kett, in that order. She's had no shortage of people who've become attracted to her in Heleus. People like him aren't going to linger in her thoughts. He kicks balls, and gets kicked in the balls, and the universe continues to turn.

His heart is beating a mile a minute, but his body's doing his job for him, even if his brain's fogged up. He kicks the ball slightly ahead, and Sara moves to intercept it. With a speed that catches her off-guard, Liam dashes forward, sweeps the ball to the side, and her leg. She lets out a "'the hell?" but it doesn't matter. His foot made contact with the ball first, so it's not a foul. And as for tripping her up? Part of him is sorry. Part of him is glad. Part of him is afraid of lashing out in a more extreme way, and if he does that, what kind of person that makes him. But most of him just wants the game to end. He wants an excuse to put some distance between him and Sara while keeping what's left of his dignity.

So he shoots. He scores. Some people cheer, a whistle blows, and the game is over. He's won the game...and looking back at Sara as she picks herself off the sand, as she gives a look that's half surprise, half resentment, he knows that he's lost another. One of the most important of all.

Such is life.


End file.
